


hold me

by annadavidson



Series: that which shaped the century (a dragon age dual au) [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorianmance Week 2017, Dragon Age Dual AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annadavidson/pseuds/annadavidson
Summary: He sat away from the main group – away from the warmth and light of the fire.Summary: A moment of comfort after the destruction of Haven.





	

He sat away from the main group – away from the warmth and light of the fire. He watched his sister sit down by the fire. She had asked him if he was alright, but he’d asked her for some time alone. They could check up on each other and comfort each other later. He didn’t want to talk right now. He knew how he felt. He knew what he thought of himself, of the situation. But voicing those thoughts… Putting them to words for his sister to hear. His thoughts and feelings were already a burden for him. He didn’t want them to weigh her down.

He doubted she thought he was happy. Who could be happy after _that?_ But he didn’t think she deserved to know how self-deprecating his thoughts were. She would try to comfort him, focus on him instead of herself. He wasn’t blind. He knew she would put him before herself, given the opportunity. It was the same way he would ignore any pain of his own in order to sooth her. He didn’t know how to not lean on someone else. He didn’t know how to support himself. Perhaps the fault for that lay at his clan’s feet for always making sure someone was there for him. Perhaps they coddled him and sheltered him more than he had realized.

Or perhaps he had missed some part of growing up. The stage where independence kicked in. What was the stage where you learned how to rely on yourself? Maybe he had skipped that one.

Now seemed like a good time to try to stand on his own two feet, so to speak. To see if he could swim or if he would sink. So far he felt like he was sinking. It didn’t help that he couldn’t actually swim. Though figuratively swimming and actual swimming were two different things and one didn’t seem to affect the other.

Galen shivered, curling in on himself in an attempt to stay warm. He felt something dropped over him and felt the soft hold of a blanket. He wrapped it around himself like a cloak, with part of it pulled up on his head like a hood. He looked over to see Dorian sit down next to him, draped with his own blanket.

“I heard you wanted to be alone,” Dorian spoke gently. There was concern in his eyes as he looked at Galen. He could only guess how Galen was feeling after all he’d been through. He remembered those moments after he’d been told to run by the Heralds. He had thought both elves were behind them, on his heels. By the time he’d realized they weren’t there, it had been too late. They were too far away. Corypheus and that dragon – Maker, he hoped it wasn’t really an Archdemon – had been surrounding them. Then the avalanche had come.

He had felt so relieved when he’d heard they were found alive. He’d hovered over their unconscious bodies, alternating with Vivienne and Solas to heal them with his magic. Aya hadn’t been as injured as he would have thought. She’d had less injuries than Galen which had told them that Galen had done what he could with the remainder of his magic to heal his sister.

“I did – I _do,”_ Galen replied after a pause. He hadn’t expected anyone else to check up on him. He had figured Aya would have told the others that he wanted to be alone and that they would respect his wishes.

“Are you a masochist?” Dorian asked, earning a confused look from Galen. “I would have guessed the last thing you needed was to be alone.”

Galen’s voice became guarded with a touch of the frustration he felt toward himself. “And how do you know what I need?”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose slightly. Before he could say anything, Galen’s ears lowered as did his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the elf added quickly, the guilt evident in his voice. “I shouldn’t have – I’m not upset at you.”

Dorian leaned back slightly, keeping the blanket wrapped warmly around himself. “Oh I know.” He paused, waiting to see if Galen would look at him again. When he didn’t, when he continued to stare at the snow beneath them, he continued. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” This time the words held no stubbornness. Tiredness was seeping into his tone. Defeat was plastered on his face, etched into his body language, and Dorian was reminded how much he didn’t like that look on the young Herald.

“Anything,” he spoke gently. He felt a warmth as Galen’s gaze shyly returned to him. “Your thoughts, perhaps?”

Galen pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “You know that’s not – It’s not easy for me.”

“I can be patient,” he pointed out, earning an arched eyebrow from Galen.

 _“You can?”_ The teasing tone sounded more forced than genuine, but he had a feeling that Galen _was_ trying to lighten the mood.

“When I want to be,” he added with a chuckle.

There was a pause. There was almost always a pause. Galen hated this. He hated how it was never easy for him to voice his thoughts. Everyone else made it look easy. He felt like if he voiced the negative thoughts – and his thoughts were often negative – he would be inadvertently giving them more power over himself. And they already had enough power to consume him. How could he make anyone understand how he felt? He knew other people got sad, felt depressed – other people had negative thoughts eat at them. But for as long as he could remember, he had always felt like an extreme case.

His thoughts didn’t just eat him, they _devoured_ him. His self-doubts wrapped their arms around him and clung, claws biting deep into his flesh. His own mind strangled him. All he could ever do was distract himself. His mind would become quieter but never silent. It was a constant battle – one he rarely won.

He didn’t want to dump all of that onto Dorian, the same way he didn’t want his problems, his feelings to weigh down Aya. He didn’t want to weigh anyone down. He didn’t think it was possible for the weight _he_ felt to ever be lifted.

Dorian remained silent, giving him much needed time. Time was all he needed. With time, he could properly process what had happened and what was happening. He wished this would feel like a dream. The destruction of Haven, the loss of lives… It all felt too real. He wanted to feel numb. He wanted to say it hadn’t sunk in yet, but it had. It seeped into him and consumed him.

“I’m not my sister,” he found himself finally saying. His gaze was set on the fire where his sister and some of the inner circle sat, where he guessed Dorian had walked over from. “I’m… I’m not strong like her.”

Dorian went to speak, to ensure the other man that he was strong, that he shouldn’t compare himself to Aya, but he was cut off as Galen continued.

“They want us to lead them to a new home – a new base.” Frustration slipped into his voice again. His hand slipped up, coming out of the blanket’s warmth, toward his neck where his fingers brushed against the bruising there. He vaguely remembered being semi-conscious, someone trying to heal the bruising, and deliriously smacking that hand away.

The Elder One had grabbed Aya by her hand and lifted her off her feet, perhaps assessing her as the biggest threat among the two Heralds. Galen had been on the ground, the Mark on his left hand flaring up. But upon seeing his sister in danger, he had managed to get to his feet and lunge at the Elder One, magic flaring in his right hand. Instead of freeing his sister, all it had gotten him was the Elder One’s free hand firmly clasped around his throat, the air cut off from his lungs. If they hadn’t been thrown, he probably would have suffocated.

Back with the Inquisition, in his semi-conscious state, he hadn’t wanted any hands around his throat. For a while, he hadn’t wanted anyone near him.

He looked at Dorian now, eyes glistening, ears lowered. _“Why me?_ I’m not a hunter or a fighter like Aya. I can barely stand to take a life! I’m not a leader! Even back home, I never thought I would make a good Keeper. I always thought Elaith should be First, I should be Second.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” Dorian’s gaze moved from the bruise on his neck to meet his eyes, “I seem to remember you standing with Aya, staying behind to give everyone else a chance to escape. I also don’t remember her asking you to stay. I’m certain she would have preferred you escaped instead of staying behind with her.”

Galen stared at him. He knew this already. Why was he pointing this out?

“You are not your sister, no,” he continued, watching Galen’s shoulders drop and eyes look away. He reached out, gently turning Galen’s head so their eyes met again. “You are not your sister just as she is not you. That doesn’t mean you’re not strong or brave. You two are very different, but you have more in common than you realize.”

Galen was already shaking his head. “I _can’t_ lead people.”

“And you think she can?” he had no doubt that the Heralds could both rise to the challenge, but he had seen them work together and apart. He felt strongly that if they were going to have a chance at success, they would have to do it together. They leaned on each other – perhaps Galen shouldn’t lean on Aya as much as he did, and perhaps she needed to lean _more_ on her brother, but Dorian knew from experience that they seemed to work best together. They balanced each other out. They always had each other’s back.

“You think she can’t?” Galen asked, clearly confused. No one in the Inquisition had questioned his sister’s abilities, what she was capable of. At least not that he was aware of.

But Dorian wasn’t questioning her. “I think she needs you just as you need her. She believes in you as much as you believe in her. I’ve _seen_ it.”

He lowered his hand to Galen’s neck, fingers brushing against the bruise. Galen flinched, the memory of being choked still fresh. He stared at Dorian as he felt the man’s magic flare up against the soft, vulnerable skin. He didn’t smack his hand away, but allowed Dorian to heal the bruise. It took a few minutes. The Elder One’s fingers had been long enough to wrap around his neck. The bruise curved like a necklace – a choker to be more exact, accurately named in Galen’s opinion. Occasionally he craned his neck to allow Dorian better access.

Honestly whenever he’d imagined or thought about Dorian touching his neck, to heal a bruise hadn’t been a part of that. His face darkened with a blush as he accidentally reminded himself of the times when he’d had nothing better to do and would stare off into space, daydreaming about what it would be like if his _vhenan_ reciprocated his feelings. Thankfully Dorian seemed focused on healing and didn’t notice his blushing. He managed to look not as flustered as he felt when Dorian finished and met his gaze again.

“Do you – Do you really think anyone would follow us?” he asked quickly, trying to distract Dorian from noticing any fluster he might have failed to cover up. “Follow _me?”_

Dorian’s expression was serious, honest. _“I would.”_

Galen flushed and blinked. “I… Thank you.”

Dorian nodded then stood up. He held his hand out to the other man, the blanket hanging on his shoulders like a cape. “Now what say we join the others, yes?”

A smile spread across Galen’s face as he took the offered hand and was helped to his feet. Dorian’s grip on his hand lingered after he was on his feet. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough to make his heart flutter, even once the other mage’s touch was gone. He followed him to the warmth of the fire and the warmth of company, deciding that perhaps he didn’t want to be alone after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Like/reblog on Tumblr [here](http://magicrobins.tumblr.com/post/157578535215/hold-me).


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